


Another Holiday

by lyn452



Series: The Princess and the Bastard [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Politics, Romance, Sequel, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-04-25 06:36:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyn452/pseuds/lyn452
Summary: Targaryen Holiday - Part Two: Two years have passed since Princess Daenerys fell into Jon Snow’s arms, but with everything changing, it’s time for another royal tour and holiday





	1. A Death in the Family

**Author's Note:**

> So the many requests for a Part Two inspired me. For those who haven’t read Part One, you can probably dive in without, but I’m certainly not going to tell you not to read that as well.

The candlelight flickered, which Daenerys preferred to look at rather than the shell of a man that her father, the king, had become. Her nails dug into her palms as she forced herself to look at him.

His skin looked like melted wax, too thin and hanging off him unnaturally. His weezing made Daenerys’ heart break. To see her once strong father reduced to having difficulty breathing. She looked away once more.

Aerys had been like this for thirteen days now. All the doctors said it was just a matter of time. As much as she didn’t want to think it, Daenerys was starting to wish he’d just die. Sitting here, waiting, it was killing her. She couldn’t do it much longer. She wasn’t getting any sleep, as she kept worrying that her father would die while she was away.

Daenerys stood up, pacing in the dark room. The only other person in the room watched her, his green eyes following her every move like a cat. It made Daenerys uncomfortable to be under the other man’s scrutiny, but she refused to show anything resembling weakness to him.

“If you need rest, your grace, I will remain with the king,” Tywin Lannister’s deep voice said. Daenerys looked at her father’s closest advisor. The shadows in the room made him appear even more sinister. Daenerys remembered the stories her father had once told her of his good friend Tywin and the fun times they had as boys. She had trouble believing them as a child and she found it impossible to believe now. How could she possibly picture Tywin Lannister smiling, laughing, and having fun?

She stopped moving and drew herself up to her full height, which admittedly wasn’t much, and said, “I’m a grown woman, Lord Lannister. I know when I need sleep, and I’m fine.” She tried to soften her voice as she added, “If you need a break, I would understand. You’re getting older after all.”

His eyes narrowed at her and Tywin folded his arms. “I’m fine as well, your grace.”

Daenerys knew it wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of him. They had been doing this dance since her father took to his sick bed. Part of her wanted to believe that Tywin was just standing by his best friend’s side during his final hour, but she suspected it had more to do with the succession. Tywin knew she would be appointing Tyrion her Hand, not him, and he wanted to suck in every last moment of power he could get.

She returned to her pacing. She wished Jon was here. As soon as the king’s illness had been announced, he asked if she wanted him on a plane to stay with her, but she had refused. The news hadn’t been told how bad it was, but she wished she could tell him. Though she knew if she did, Jon would be on the next plane whether she wanted him there or not.

Daenerys knew another week of this would cause her to break down and ask him to return. She wouldn’t be able to stay with him, not really, but even having him hold her would be nice.

She missed him, but she didn’t want to pull him away from his family at Winterfell. They had just spent the entire spring season together, an endless parade of parties, ceremonies and events for the last three months in King's Landing. Daenerys knew Jon needed a break, some time to himself after so much time in the spotlight. She knew Jon hated the attention, even more than she did. She didn’t like it, but she was used to it after a lifetime of public attention and scrutiny. Jon had been ignored, spending more time reporting the news rather than being the news.nHe needed the break and to spend time with his family. She wanted to give him that much, especially as it wouldn’t be long before it got so much worse for him. She hoped he understood that as bad as the last two years might have been, as queen she would become even more of a public figure.

Daenerys stopped pacing, she could no longer hear her father’s wheezing breath. Tywin was also standing, leaning over the king. He called out for a doctor as Daenerys rushed over to her father, taking his knotted hand into her own.

She barely noticed when the doctors rushed in, taking her father’s missing pulse. She let go of her father as they attempted to restart his heart. She walked away, looking at the picture on his dresser. It was the only family portrait that featured them all. Daenerys was only a babe in it. She looked at the faces of the other Targaryens, who were all dead now. She was alone in this world, her last family member dying behind her, to shouts of “Clear!”

She closed her eyes, not opening them again until she heard the announcement, “Time of death, 9:49 p.m.” She blinked her eyes open and turned to see several sad faces looking at her. She tried to accept their sympathies with the grace of a princess, no, the grace of a queen now.

Daenerys was surprised to see Tywin grasping her father’s left hand, as if saying good-bye to his old friend. Was it possible the old lion had a heart after all? She looked down at her father. He had aged badly, she thought, remembering early portraits of him with her mother. How handsome he’d been before his first mental breakdown. She took his right hand.

Daenerys felt nothing as she held her father’s hand for the last time. She had been waiting for this moment for nearly two weeks, yet now that it was here, she was numb. It was like it was all happening to someone else, and she was just watching it play out.

She didn’t break free from this feeling until she caught Tywin Lannister bowing to her, his deep voice announcing, “All hail, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name.”

The doctors followed in their bows and Daenerys felt the wall of emotion break though she repressed it ruthlessly. She was queen.

Her father had died.

 

* * *

 

Jon asked to see the platinum ring with the three diamonds again. Robb was getting restless next to him. He whined, “I’m bored. You promised me free beer.”

“Afterwards,” Jon said, irritated. He was looking at about a dozen engagement rings at the moment. They cluttered in a bunch atop the glass jewelry counter. “Which one do you like best?”

They had played this game before, as they’d been in this store for nearly an hour now, and Robb sighed before pointing at a random ring. “That one.” It irritated Jon that his brother wasn’t taking this seriously. It was a very serious matter. Jon was going to ask the woman who owned the crown jewels to marry him. He had to at least try to impress her with his engagement ring.

Still, Jon looked at the ring Robb pointed to more closely. He put it back down. “No, I don’t think emeralds really suit her. It should be rubies, right? For Targaryens?”

Robb bent over his hands on his knees. “How the fuck should I know, Jon? You promised me beer.” Robb stood up. “You need to get her friend to do this with you, Melissa or whatever her name is.”

“Missandei,” Jon corrected. He shook his head. “I can’t do that. Dany would know something was up.” He picked up another box. This ring was pretty, but was it Daenerys Targaryen’s engagement ring? It didn’t seem special enough.

“Then bring Sansa out with you. She likes this crap.”

“I tried that,” Jon put the ring back down. “It turned into three hours of Sansa trying on rings and telling me exactly what she’s looking for in an engagement ring.” Whenever she got married, Jon would be the most useful future brother-in-law ever for that shopping trip.

“What about Arya?”

“You’re more girly than she is,” Jon replied.

Robb opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again, unable to deny that. Jon stepped away from the array of rings. “What am I doing? I am so out of my depth here. She is so out of my league. I’m out of my damned mind even thinking about this.”

Jon ran his hands through his hair, and Robb came up behind him, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, calm down. You are the man she chose. If she didn’t like you, she would have dumped you already, not kept you around a couple years.”

Jon chuckled a bit. “That was strangely comforting.” He looked up. “But seriously, Robb. How do I even do this?” Jon lowered his voice, his eyes darting to the clerk still watching them. “How does anyone propose to a princess? Is there some kind of official protocol for it? Am I supposed to get approval from the council first? I’d buy a damn book if it existed and I could get it without reporters finding out.” That was Jon’s biggest worry. That Daenerys would find out about his plans via tabloid. He still had some contacts in the journalism business, but he had very little pull. Since gaining his trust and becoming the crown princess’ boyfriend, his career had had to take a back seat.

Sometimes he wondered if it was still even in the car. It was a small sacrifice to make for her, he thought, but he couldn’t help but miss it sometimes.

“Jon, I’m really trying to be sympathetic here, but it’s hard to feel bad about your problem of not knowing how exactly to marry the most beautiful woman in the world, who also happens to be an actual princess.”

“Jenye would upset to hear that, or is it Talisa now?”

Robb cleared his throat, clearly not wanting to talk about his own complicated dating life. Jon knew better than to press. A few beers in and he’d wish Robb would shut up about how he just couldn’t decide between the two women.

Jon looked down at the collection of rings again. He was ready to give up, again. He sheepishly told the man behind the counter, who looked annoyed at having his time wasted, but Jon turned to his smiling brother. “About that free beer…”

“Thank the gods,” Robb said, nearly sprinting out of the door.

Jon smirked at his brother. He looked down at his phone. He wasn’t usually the type to be connected to his phone at all times, but Daenerys hadn’t called yet today. He didn’t want to miss her call. As much as he loved Winterfell and his trips home, he still missed her.

Nothing. He put the phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t surprised to find Robb already in his car, ready to go. Jon climbed in and they drove to the nearest bar.

As they grabbed a booth, Jon’s phone chirped at him. He looked at the text message immediately, thinking it must be Dany, but it was Arya. _What are you doing?_

He replied, _Having a beer with Robb._

_Who's paying?_

Jon sighed. The joys of having a sister in college. The mere hint of free food was like blood to a shark. _Me._

_Then what bar are you at?_

Jon texted her the name of the place and the street. He then placed his phone on the table, facing up before telling Robb, “Arya’s coming.”

Robb nodded. When the pretty waitress stopped by to drop off menus and take their drink orders, Robb immediately began flirting with her and ordered them a pitcher of beer. Jon kept glancing at his phone.

“That’s rude, you know,” Robb pointed out.

Jon knew his brother was right, but he couldn’t help it. “Sorry, it’s just Dany. Her dad’s sick.”

Robb interrupted, “You mean the king? Yeah, I’m aware.The entire country is aware of that.”

Jon scowled. “Anyway, Dany’s really upset about it. She’s distracted when we talk and I’m just worried about her. I haven’t heard from her all day, and it’s weird for her not to call.” Jon wondered how sick the king actually was. One of the privileges of being in the inner circle was learning just a bit about how much the press was lied to for reasons of national security.

Jon tried to put his worries out of his mind, but his insecurities couldn’t help but pop up. “You don’t think she’s going to break up with me, do you? I mean, it’s really like she doesn’t want to talk with me since her dad got sick.”

“Her dad’s sick. She’s worried about him, distracted and not calling you as much. That’s it, Jon. Despite being royalty, she’s just a regular woman, like you’re always trying to tell me.”

Jon knew his brother was right. He knew that, but he also knew that something was still off with Dany. It was more than just her dad being sick.

The beer arrived before their sister did and they ordered a round of appetizers while they waited for Arya to show. Robb launched into his troubles with dating two women who were both ready to take their relationships to the next level and Robb being unable to decide. “Jenye is a nurse who is the daughter of a Westerlands lord, and Talisa is a nurse but she’s from Essos.”

“Wait,” Jon set down his beer. “So they are both nurses?”

“Yeah,” Robb said. “Why?”

Jon shook his head, picking up his beer again. “No reason. You’ve got a type, nothing wrong with that.”

Robb looked annoyed but he continued, going over the good points of each lady. Jon tried to pay attention, but his eyes kept drifting back to his phone. Why hadn’t Dany called yet?

Arya arrived at the same time as the appetizers, almost like she timed it. She grinned, pouring herself a beer as she dug into the free food. Jon knew they’d have to order more food if he and Robb wanted to actually eat anything. He also asked for a second pitcher.

It was still strange to see Arya drink. It made Jon feel old despite him not actually being old. It was weird that Rickon was driving too. Jon’s younger siblings were supposed be kids and remain kids forever. Them taking steps into adulthood, it just wasn’t right. It meant they were all getting older.

Jon glanced at his phone again and Arya caught him. “Why are you looking at your phone? It’s kind of rude, Jon.”

Robb answered for his brother. “Dany might call, and the gods know, Jon can’t let little princess go to voicemail just once.”

Jon replied, “You call her that mockingly, but she actually is a princess.”

Arya merely rolled her eyes, finishing off the chicken wings. “How’s that going? You and the princess?”

Again, before Jon could answer, Robb answered for him, “Well enough that Jon’s buying an engagement ring.”

Arya’s eyebrows shot up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She reached across the table to punch Jon on the arm. “I thought I knew everything about you and your princess.”

Arya was the only one (outside of the people who’d been there) who knew the truth of how him and Dany had met. It’s what happened when Jon was a bad liar and his little sister was a living lie detector. Jon asked, “Did you want to come ring shopping with me?”

Arya snorted, “Hells no, but it still would be nice to be informed.” Their new pitcher arrived.

Jon filled everyone’s glass and Arya asked, “So how’s the ring hunting going?”

Jon snorted. “Shitty. I can’t find the right one. It has to be perfect since she’s royalty and perfect apparently isn’t easy to find.”

Arya lifted her beer, chugging about half of it down before she asked, “Why don’t you get one custom-made? Probably what the princess is used to anyway. I’ve got a buddy who does metal working, he can make it for you.”

Jon blinked. “What?”

“Custom jewelry, Jon. Were you not aware that was a thing?” His little sister looked entirely too amused.

“No,” Jon looked to Robb. “Did you know that was a thing?”

“Nope,” Robb lifted his beer to take a drink. “Apparently, Arya is more girly than me.”

Arya shoved Robb for that. “I’m not girlier than you, ass.” She turned back to Jon. “Give me your phone, I’ll put Gendry’s number in it for you. He’s in King’s Landing. You can visit his shop when you go back there again.”

Jon stood up, he grabbed his sister in a hug and kissed her on the cheek, causing her to squirm and squeal. They drew attention from other tables, but Jon didn’t care. “Arya, you are my favorite.” He let her go.

She smiled smugly as she grabbed Jon’s phone, knowing how to unlock it without asking. “I know.”

Since he was up, Jon made his way to the back so he could take a piss. He felt relieved. Who knew Arya had the answer to his problem this entire time? He thought about what kind of ring Daenerys would want. She tended to like simple yet intricate jewelry. Silver or platinum, never gold. Jon still liked the idea of rubies along with the diamond. His only worry was doing a dragon, would that be too cliche? Damn near all of her jewelry was designed with dragons, so it wasn’t like she didn’t like them at all, but maybe she would want something different for this ring.

He’d think on it.

Jon walked back to the booth and he saw Arya holding out his phone. “It’s done.”

Jon snatched up the phone, looking at the new number. “How do you have all these friends?” Jon asked, remembering the friend she’d introduced him to in Braavos, Jaqen.

Arya shrugged. “I’m a friendly person.”

Jon knew that wasn’t true, but he also knew it was likely the best answer he’d get. Arya shoved  a fry into her mouth before she added, “Oh, and Daenerys called.”

Of course. Jon made his way outside, for some privacy as he called her back. She answered on the first ring. “Jon,” her voice was hoarse and small and so unlike her.

Jon’s concern was immediate. “Dany, what’s wrong?”

He heard her take a few deep breaths. “So this isn’t public knowledge yet, but my dad died.”

Jon’s breath caught. “Gods, are you okay, Dany? I will be on the next flight to King’s Landing.” He glanced back to where his siblings were sitting. What should he tell them? Should he lie or would it be okay to tell them the truth?

“Thanks, Jon,” she took another deep breath. “It’s been happening for a while now. I wanted to tell you, but…” She cut herself off. “I thought it would be easier, knowing it was coming, having time to prepare. But it’s impossible to prepare for, you know?”

Jon did know. He remembered spending time with his Aunt Lyanna before she passed. He knew it was coming. He’d watched her get sicker and worse, and yet, when the news came that she died, it still knocked him down. It still shocked him. “Yeah, I know.”

There was some noise on the other end of the line, which Jon couldn’t identify. “Fuck,” Dany said, making Jon smile. For some reason it always amused him when prim and proper Daenerys swore. “I have to go. Text me when you know when you’re coming, I’ll make sure there’s a car waiting for you.”

“Okay, I love you, Dany.”

“I love you too.”

She hung up and Jon stood there for a moment. Unsure what to do for a moment.

Jon’s first thoughts were to feel bad for Daenerys and want to be there for her in this most difficult time. He had only lost Lyanna, but he still understood the pain of losing family, and knew that Daenerys must be in agony now that she was alone in the world. The last Targaryen. He already thought about which airlines to call and how much he could spend on a ticket. He needed to be in King’s Landing, now.

His second thought, which shamed him a little, was “If I couldn’t propose to a princess, how the fuck am I going to propose to a queen?”

 

* * *

 

Walking between Tywin and Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys wished that she could be walking next to Jon instead. She wished she could clasp onto his hand and rest her head on his strong shoulder, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. He was just a boyfriend and not high ranking enough to walk this far up in the funeral procession.

Despite it being a horrible reason to do so, she wished she had married him so he could stand beside her. But she had always thought it would be easier to wait until after her father’s death, as she was always afraid that Aerys wouldn’t allow the marriage. He’d never warmed up to Jon, always saw him as the bastard who’d corrupted his daughter.

Daenerys wondered what her father would have thought of Jon if he’d ever known the whole truth of just how much he’d corrupted her and how they really met. But then, she liked Jon alive and with his balls attached, so she hadn’t really wanted to find out.

Thinking of Aerys made Daenerys focus on the grand coffin before her. She had always had a complicated relationship with her father. She had loved him, but he was a deeply flawed man. She tried to only remember the good about him, now that he was gone, but his rage and his mental problems would probably always taint her memories of him. Just as Viserys’ problems had always made it more difficult to remember him with only fondness.

She bowed her head, letting her sorrow show on her face. She knew the cameras were on her now, knew that she was performing. People would analyze her face, debating whether she was showing too much emotion (like some weak-willed woman, not a queen) or not enough (like some cold-hearted ice queen, not like their passionate king). She tried to strike the right balance, but doubted it would be enough.

When they reached the Sept, Tyrion and Tywin hung back, as only the royal family could enter first. Daenerys stepped forward, picking up her black dress and trying to walk fast enough to achieve a bit of a breeze to keep the tears at bay.

She no longer had any family. She was the last surviving member of a dynasty that had lasted 300 years. She was alone in this world. She would sit alone on the throne.

Daenerys followed her father’s coffin into the Sept. She took her spot, alone, in the seating for the royal family, not quite sitting on the throne yet. The funeral was long, a full ceremony. Daenerys tried not to let her eyes or attention drift.

Afterwards, there was a reception so that mourners could gather and pay their respects to their king and his heir. Daenerys stood, with her faithful friend Missandei standing beside her in her official capacity as translator, and accepted their offers of sympathy. Every noble family from each of the Seven Kingdoms was there: Martells, Baratheons, Tyrells, Tullys, Arryns...

Starks.

Ned looked at her, full of sympathy. Daenerys knew that the northerner shared many of his friend Robert’s negative opinions when it came to her father, but he’d never been anything but kind to her. “I’m sorry for your loss, Daenerys.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Ned.”

After him, came Jon. Daenerys nearly broke at the mere sight of him. She had just seen him that morning, how could she possibly miss him? He held out hand, but she ignored it, pulling him in for a hug. He whispered, “Am I allowed to hug you?”

She noticed his arms wrapped around her automatically despite his words. “I don’t care,” she said in response.

As he pulled away, Jon pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Stay strong, Dany,” he told her, keeping one of her hands in his, he clutched it tighter. He glanced at his brother who was waiting behind him, before snatching a quick kiss.

Daenerys a small smile at that. It always amused her that Jon still felt the need to steal kisses from her, despite her being more than willing to give them freely. He clasped her hand once more. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She nodded and he let go, letting the line continue to move forward. Daenerys took a deep breath, readying herself to greet the rest of Jon’s family, as well as the thousands more in line behind them.

When the line finished, Daenerys was exhausted, but Tywin and Tyrion were waiting for her. They brought her into the council chamber to speak privately and plan for the future. Tyrion began, “Your majesty, I know this has been a taxing day for you, but we must begin preparations for the coronation, the sooner, the better.”

Daenerys feet ached, her stomach was growling and she was exhausted from the sheer numbers of hands she’d shaken today. “We have to wait a month for mourning before a cornation, do we really need to talk about this now?”

The men exchanged looks and Tyrion pressed forward, more gently than Tywin would have. “Yes, your enemies aren’t going to hold back. This is the perfect time for them to press about getting rid of the monarchy once and for all. They won’t get another opportunity like this, as you are young and have a long life ahead of you, your majesty.”

Daenerys knew her friend was right. Robert Baratheon probably already had a bill drafted up to push through the Small Council. He’d move quickly and she would have to stay ahead of him.

She rubbed her temple. She wasn’t even queen yet, and she was already stressed by her duties.

She said, “I know we’re not supposed to plan for the king’s demise, but we already have the funds set aside for the coronation, correct?” Neither man raised an objection, so Daenerys pressed forward. “We should secure those funds first, before they disappear for state reasons, so they can’t use the cost against us.”

Tyrion nodded. Tywin stepped forward now. “I would suggest appointing a Hand as your first royal act, so we can act for you on the Small Council, block anything that might hurt your power.” He paused for a moment to gauge her reaction. “I know you were planning to appoint my son, but it might make more sense for me to serve as your Hand for these first years in your reign. You’re going to need someone experienced by your side.”

Tyrion glared at his father. “How many years were you thinking, father?”

Tywin glared right back. “As many as necessary.”

Daenerys felt her headache pound harder, she didn’t need to be in the middle of this family contest. She said, “I plan to begin my reign as I plan to rule during it, I will be appointing Tyrion.”

Tywin’s lips tightened but he bowed in accent. “As you wish, your majesty.”

Daenerys wished she could believe that would be the end of it, but Tywin Lannister wouldn’t be Tywin Lannister if that was his only plan. She dismissed both men, taking a moment for herself.

Of course, she wasn’t actually alone. Ser Jaime Lannister stood outside the door to escort her back to her room. He’d been hovering around more as late, and Daenerys wasn’t sure if it was just the shift from a Kingsguard to a Queensguard due to her father’s demise or if it was her closer connection with his family now.

She didn’t want to think about it right now. A glance at the timepiece on the fireplace mantle in this room told her that Jon was probably already asleep. She knew he preferred to stay up late and sleep in, while she was an early to bed, early to rise type, but at this hour she suspected he’d decided not to wait for her. She thought about stopping in his room, just in case he was up, but she would see him in the morning.

Daenerys walked over to the ornate fireplace. Many of the rooms in the palace had one, most decorated with dragons like this one. Her family had a long history connected to dragon lore and fire, most of it glorious, some of it terrible. She recalled the many lessons she’d had on it. Strange that all that history came down to her in this moment. She hoped to carry on the Targaryen name, but what if she failed? What if Robert Baratheon got his way and the royal family ended? What would she do then?

Part of her thought it might be good if it did. As a private citizen, she would have many freedoms she didn’t have now. True, she would also lose some privileges, but she thought it might be worth it.

Daenerys caught sight of her mother’s ring on her forefinger as she traced the teeth of one of the carved dragons. Queen Rhaella. What was it that her mother always said? “A queen’s duty is not easy, sometimes it’s too much for one person to bear, which is why we must be more than human. You are blood of the dragon my child, never forget that.” Daenerys’ mother had died when she was just a child, but she still had a few fond memories of the woman. Her father’s first breakdown had come shortly after the queen's death. Daenerys had remembered what her mother had told her and had tried to be strong as she watched her father breakdown, Viserys lash out and Rhaegar struggle to keep them together and the public unaware of the family’s struggles. She had tried to be above it all, even as a child, like a dragon.

Daenerys felt too human now. She wished Aemon was still here to comfort her. He always knew just what to say. He’d died a few months ago in his sleep. Daenerys had cried while Jon comforted her. He’d grown close to the old man in that last year as well, so he was just as upset as she was, but he had put her first. She didn’t deserve his selflessness.

She thought about waking him again, but she could be selfless tonight, let him rest. He’d had many long days since coming back King’s Landing. He was probably ready for a full night’s sleep. She would let him rest. She would be strong.

She would be a dragon.

Daenerys walked out of the room, Jaime trailing her. She thought about ignoring him, but she thought back to the fight between Tywin and Tyrion. A fight that was likely to get worse before it got better. She asked the knight, “You’re a Queensguard now, right? So you have to do as I say?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“So could I order you to make sure that your father and brother don’t kill each other? Make that your job?”

He smirked, it made him look even more handsome. Daenerys looked away from him, suddenly remembering the massive crush she’d had on the man as a girl. “You could order it, but I’d promise nothing.”

Daenerys chuckled a bit at that. She still wanted desperately to curl up with Jon, but it was probably too late for that now. She longed for the days in the future, when they would be married and be allowed to act accordingly, sleeping in the same bed.

But a royal wedding would have to wait, assuming Jon wanted to marry her at all.

 

* * *

 

Jon had watched the funeral procession on TV. Part of him knew he should be there, but he wouldn’t get a better chance at doing this without drawing Dany’s suspicions. He was planning on being in line for the reception following. Robb had already agreed to wait for him, if necessary, so he could blame his brother on his delay. He was a little surprised Gendry’s shop was open since most businesses were allowed to close for the national mourning.

Though Gendry didn’t own the store, it was owned by a native of Essos by the name of Tobho Mott. Jon vaguely recalled Daenerys mentioning his name, so he guessed she was already familiar with his work. Jon hoped that meant good things for him.

The owner, apparently, wasn’t in that day though, as there was only one man in and he was too young to be a master. Jon guessed this was Gendry, Arya's friend. He was a large man, and Jon had to look up to him.

He looked friendly enough though, especially as he grinned and held out a hand. “Jon?” he asked.

Jon returned the smile. “Aye, Gendry?”

The other man nodded. Gendry said, “Thanks for coming today, I hope it wasn’t too much trouble with traffic and all that.” He looked meaningful at the television, still broadcasting the procession live.

“It was no trouble. I’m surprised you’re open today.”

“We’re not,” Gendry said. “I’m doing this more as a favor rather than official business. Besides, I met the king once,” He lowered his voice, “He was kind of an ass, to tell the truth.”

Jon smiled at that. Gods knew, the king had been more than an ass to him. As bad as it would be to admit, Jon was a little grateful he no longer had to ask Aerys for permission to marry his daughter. That would have been a difficult conversation, at best. “How’d you met the king?”

“Me dad’s Robert Baratheon.” Jon’s eyes widened. “Before you ask, I’m one of his bastards and I’ve only met him a few times. He prefered to send mom checks rather than actually spend time  with me or be a father. Though I always liked him whenever I did actually meet up with him. He’s a fun guy.”

Jon couldn’t say the same. Robert loathed the Targaryens and since Jon had begun dating the princess, now queen, his dad’s friend had taken to calling him dragonfucker. Robb had to hold Jon back from punching the fat fuck the first time he’d said it. Jon hated being around him now, as he was never anything but rude to Daenerys and her family. He decided to change the subject, “How do you know Arya?”

Gendry blushed, which Jon found interesting. “We met at one of my dad’s parties. Some asshole had dragged her there and then abandoned her. Since I didn’t know anyone there except my dad who was,” Gendry cleared his throat. “Busy. I kept her company. We talked. She’s a nice girl. The asshole came back at the end of the night, drunk and smiling. She decked him and then I helped her shove him in the backseat of the car.”

“Theon,” Jon said. “The asshole’s name is Theon.” He remembered that story from Arya’s bitching the next day. Jon had just been grateful she was finally over her crush on that dickweed. She had never mentioned the friend she’d met at the party was a guy though. Jon wondered about that, but he didn’t want to ask this stranger. This stranger who was clearly a few years older than his little sister. Probably closer to Jon’s age than hers.

Gendry picked up a clipboard. “You’re looking for a ring, right?” Jon nodded. “Engagement?” Gendry asked.

“Yes,” Jon felt nervous for some odd reason.

Gendry jotted something down in chickstrach that Jon guessed could pass for handwriting. “So you know up front, custom jewelry ain’t cheap. I’ve had some guys with romantic notions who then baulk at the price.”

“The cost isn’t going to be a problem.”

Gendry raised an eyebrow at that, but he said nothing. Jon wondered about that. The metalworker knew that he was a son of Ned Stark, as a brother to Arya.

Then again, he also might know that Jon was bastard born. It was clear that Gendry, who was also bastard born to a noble, was required to work in a way true nobles didn’t. He might just assume that Jon was lacking the funds as well as the name, as he’d given Snow for his name, as a way to disguise himself in case some ambitious reporter watched appointments with jewelry makers.

Though if Gendry had done any research on Jon, shouldn’t he know who the ring was for?

Not knowing Jon’s thoughts, Gendry continued with his clipboard questions, “So, do you know anything about jewelry?”

“No,” Jon replied honestly. Gendry studied him carefully, before writing something down.

“Does she wear a lot jewelry?”

“Aye, a fair amount.” Jon remembered the ring. “She wears one piece at all times. A ring that belonged to her mother.”

Gendry looked up, interested, “Can you describe what that looks like? Do you know if she wears it because she actually likes it or if it’s just sentimental value?”

“A bit of both,” Jon answered the second question first. He attempted to describe the ring, but didn’t get much further than it’s silver and its got these two heads on it, before he gave up and looked it up on his phone.

Gendry talked to fill the silence, “I know you may think these questions are silly, but I find they help. Too many times guys come in here who don’t know anything and they design these gaudy rings that their girls (or a couple times, guys) end up hating. Though one time it was actually the perfect ring for her, and she came in mad that I had changed the design, which she’d apparently handed to the poor fellow.”

Jon found the ring and showed it to Gendry. Gendry studied the picture, a frown forming on his face before he looked up at Jon again. His eyes swept over Jon and his frown deepened. “This is Queen Rhaella’s ring.” Jon nodded. “You’re that guy, aren’t you? The one dating the princess,” he glanced up at the TV. “Queen now. Is that what this ring is for?”

Arya had recommended this guy, said he could keep his mouth shut, but Jon still hadn’t wanted to tell him. The amount of money the metalworker could get for leaking that information might be more than he’d get for the damn ring. But if the guy didn’t even recognize Jon from all of the covers about the princess slumming it with him, he guessed that Gendry wasn’t the type to chase after that kind of news. Jon nodded.

Gendry seemed surprised and set down his clipboard. “So you’re saying that this ring,” he pointed at the order form he was filling out, “could be the royal engagement ring? That’s what you’re telling me.”

“If she says yes,” Jon replied.

Gendry took a deep breath, his hands resting on the counter as he leaned down. “This might be more than a favor then.”

Jon sighed. He’d seen this in the past two years, people jacking up prices because royalty could afford it. “How much do you think it’ll be?”

“Are you kidding, no charge. You just got to make sure when they print pictures of this ring in every magazine, it’s mentioned that I designed it. This could set me up for life, especially if the queen likes it. She might ask me to do more. A royal client. Mr. Mott will be excited when I tell him, maybe even proud, assuming I talk him out of doing it himself.” Gendry looked excited. “You should have done a bidding war between a bunch of us. You could have gotten five rings just in King’s Landing for the price of nothing.”

Jon had seen that as well with royalty, people handing stuff out, almost as if it was their duty as Westerosi citizens to give the princess whatever she wanted. He thought of the work that would be required for a bidding war to design the royal engagement ring. The organization and the secrecy that would need to be required. It wouldn’t be worth it. He was far more comfortable just taking his sister’s recommendation. Jon shrugged. “You’re lucky I didn’t know any better then.”

Gendry barked out a laugh. “I don’t suppose you know her ring size?”

“No,” Jon said, looking down. He’d figured it didn’t matter and he could have gotten it resized later.

Gendry said, “No matter. I might be able to find out with a little research. If not, there are plenty pictures of her, and I’m a pretty good guesser.”  He scratched down a few more notes. “I have so many ideas just thinking about it.” He stopped, looking at Jon. “Unless, of course you had something particular in mind.”

Jon chuckled, “Not really. I just thought, classic diamond, maybe some rubies in a silver or black setting?”

“We could mix the black and silver, twine them, might make something striking and unique,” Gendry was back to sketching. “When I get something more firm, I can send you the design for approval. Or I can send you a few so you could have a choice.”

“No,” Jon cut him off. He was sick of staring at choices of rings. “Just send one design and I’ll say yes or no. If it’s a no, then send another one. I don’t need to look at any more rings than necessary.”

Gendry smirked. “Do you have any personal preferences? You know, likes or dislikes when it comes to rings?”

“What do you mean, it’s her ring.”

“Yes, she’ll wear the engagement ring, but it will match the wedding bands, one of which you’ll wear. So don’t design something that she’ll love but you hate, as you’re going to be wearing something like it.”

Strangely Jon hadn’t thought of that. He’d been so focused on finding the perfect engagement ring, he forgot about the wedding bands. He looked down at his left ring finger, picturing a band of silver and/or black across it. Gods, he hoped she was okay with simple wedding bands as he didn’t want anything too fancy.

Gendry continued, “I would recommend you come here for the bands as well, as we’ll already have the design for one ring. In fact, we can do both at the same time. This is where I’d usually advertise that it’s cheaper to do them at the same time, but I guess that doesn’t really work when I’ve already told you I’ll be giving you them for free. Still, if you’re confident she’ll say yes, we can do the bands as well.”

Jon hesitated. He wished he was completely confident, but how could he be? He was a bastard who’d caused a scandal with his birth and another by dating her. Daenerys might get sick of all the crap he dragged with him. She might prefer a man who’d actually be politically advantageous for her to marry. Maybe someone she hadn’t met under false pretenses and lied to her the first day they’d met. She would be a queen now, what was to say she would lose him to seek better pastures.

He declined on the wedding bands.

 

* * *

 

Carefully, Daenerys placed the crown on her head, studying herself in the mirror. She looked like a queen. “This is the most uncomfortable thing I have ever worn. My neck already hurts.”

Her eyes looked to Jon, who was lying on the bed behind her. He smirked. “So take it off. You don’t have to wear it for another month.”

“I do have to practice with it though. The crown can’t fall from my head during the coronation. That would be a disaster. And they don’t fit it to each monarch, they put it on your head and you have to make it work.” She attempted to walk a bit, but she could feel it wobbling. Her hands shot up to steady it. She wouldn’t be able to do that either. It had to look natural, like it was meant to be there. “Aegon’s head must have been tiny.”

Jon chuckled a bit. She could hear him get up. He stood a few feet from her, his arms open for her. “I’ll help you learn to walk with it. Just make it to me. We’ll increase the distance every night.”

Daenerys felt like a toddler, but a part of her liked the idea of Jon as a father to a toddler. She liked him in this role. She imagined a future where he’d be doing this same job on his knees, encouraging their son or daughter to take the same wobbly steps towards him. She recalled all of her lessons on balance and walking properly as she made her way to him. She could feel the crown trying to fall, but she didn’t let it.

She made it to Jon’s arms and he wrapped them around her, pulling her to him. “See,” he whispered. “You’ll be a great queen, Dany.”

Her hands clutched his shirt. She desperately hoped that’s what she would always be to this man -- Dany. Not Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men...and the rest of it.

She felt the crown shift and before she could even react, Jon had caught it, keeping it from falling to the ground. Daenerys groaned, stepping back and taking it from him.

“It’s heavier than I expected. What’s it weigh?”

“About twenty pounds,” Daenerys set it back on its ceremonial pillow and called for a guard to take it away, seal it back up behind all of the security measures in place for it. She waited for them to be alone again, or as alone as she ever was in the royal palace before guiding him to sit next to her on the bed. His arms automatically wrapped around her and Daenerys rested her head on his chest. He was her favorite pillow.

She wished she could stay here in his arms for the rest of the day, maybe the rest of her life, but she knew Tyrion would be here soon. He had the paperwork to declare him her Hand drawn up. She needed to review them with her lawyer and then submit them to the Council. They didn’t really have the authority to reject her choice, but Robert Baratheon already pushing for an abandonment of the monarchy hard, she knew it would be better if there were few objections. Though Baratheon (and possibly a few others) would reject Tyrion on principle, despite his obvious intellect and qualifications. It would be a long day.

Daenerys tried to put all of this out of her mind, cuddling closer to Jon. She asked him, “What are your plans for the day?”

He snorted, “Same as everyday, nothing much.”

She frowned and pulled away just enough to look at him. “Are you not writing?”

“No one wants to buy articles from me that aren’t about you, which I’m not selling.”

Daenerys felt her heart flutter at his loyalty. She knew all too well how rare and precious a gift like that truly was. She smiled softly and bent to brush his lips. He responded eagerly, but she pulled away again. “What about your photography?”

Jon looked away from her for a moment, his grip loosening. “I’ve taken all the pictures I want to here. I haven’t found an interesting topic on the palace grounds, and when I leave…” He hesitated before finishing. “I still have a certain degree of anonymity, but if anyone sees me come out of the gate, I’m swamped by press and paparazzi.”

Now Daenerys looked away from him. “I’m sorry about that. All of it. That you had to give up so much of your life for me.” She constantly felt like he’d given up everything to be with her and she worried she wasn’t worth it. That she couldn’t possibly deserve him.

Jon’s thumb tucked under her chin and he guided her to look at him. “Hey now, I was planning on taking some time off anyway around the time I first met you. And I will never regret you, Dany. No matter what.”

He kissed her. It started sweetly with a slow steadiness, but soon tongues were involved. Then Daenerys adjusted her legs, so she was straddling him. Jon’s hands gripped her ass, bringing her closer as their mouths continued to consume each other. Daenerys’ hips began to move against his, but it wasn’t until she reangled herself so that her heat met his hardness that Jon’s hands stilled her.

He broke off with a groan, “We have to stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Daenerys rubbed herself against him again, causing him to cry out again. She dove in for another kiss and he made out with her more than willingly.

When her lips drifted to kiss his neck beneath his beard, he tried to explain, “Dany, it’s the middle of the day, someone will be coming in here. We aren’t supposed to be doing this.”

She pulled back to give him her most wicked smirk, “No, we’re not. We’re being very naughty right now.” She switched to her most innocent pout. “Don’t you want to be bad with me?”

“Fuck,” he gasped as his lips took hers again, his teeth catching her jutted lower lip. When he could manage it, he said, “You really are a troublemaker.”

Dany smiled at the old nickname. It reminded her of their very first time together, back in Braavos. When Jon joined them on the rest of the tour, they’d shifted back to chaste shyness, getting to know each other slowly and dating in a more conventional manner. With all the eyes watching them, they had been forced to remain out of each other’s beds.

It hadn’t changed much when they got back to Westeros. With constant watching and critiquing of their behavior, they had been forced to act more like virginal teenagers rather than the grown man and woman they were. They had managed to sneak a few times in once they hit the six month mark. A trip to Winterfell to visit his family for the holidays had allowed them to act in the manner they wanted and be the couple they truly were.

Still, it felt like ages to Daenerys since she’d had Jon, and she wanted him now. Perhaps it was an odd way for her grief to manifest itself, distract her from death with the most primitive way of showing her that she was still alive. Perhaps the stress and pressures of queen were getting to her already, and she wanted pleasure to relieve the unpleasantness of her life at the moment.

Maybe she was just horny.

Whatever the reason, Daenerys wanted Jon, now. And she wasn’t a woman used to being denied. She pressed her breasts into his chest and ran her fingers through his hair in a way she knew he couldn’t resist. He let out a breath at her eagerness, “Dany.”

She still loved his accent, that rough northern brogue. She would never tire of it. They would be old and grey, no longer able to enjoy loving each other with their flesh, but she would still feel her stomach drop anytime he said her name in just that way.

Daenerys kissed him again, pursuing his tongue with her own, aggressively. He responded in kind, lurching forward and bending her back until she found herself with her back pressed against her bed and Jon kneeling over her, spreading out her legs more to give him more room. She gasped, “Jon,” to encourage him. He was encouraged and began to kiss his way down her body, starting with her neck.

Unfortunately, Jon didn’t get far before the door open and Tyrion’s voice cleared. “Lord Snow, must I remind you that the princess, now queen, is no ordinary woman. You cannot satisfy your urges using her body, you must do it yourself, so to speak. I am shocked and horrified by your actions today.”

Daenerys nearly laughed at the combination of frustration and embarrassment on Jon’s face when he pulled away from her. She almost felt bad that she had started it, kept it going, yet he took all the blame. But she was more upset by the interruption. “Lord Tyrion, it is customary to knock. Perhaps you should do so next time to avoid such unpleasant things to see.”

His eyes narrowed on her, but he said nothing. He held up the folder with papers instead. “You have work to attend to, your majesty.”

Daenerys sighed, and with one more quick peck on Jon’s lips. She rose from the bed to attend to her royal duties.

 

* * *

 

Jon sat around the palace, bored. It was a common feeling as of late. With the coronation coming up and the political maneuvering around it, Daenerys was as busy as she’d ever been. Jon could usually entertain himself during the day while she took meetings, but he was finding less and less to do at King’s Landing as he began to be disenchanted with the new land, missing Winterfell instead.

He’d been reading a lot more, finally making it through his to read pile, but what was once a stack of books that was precariously balanced was now just two books that were classics he had been meaning to read for years, but still had no desire to actually read.

Jon had been following the politics surrounding him and Daenerys, he’d watched Baratheon’s call for dissolving the monarchy, watched the debates upon appointing Tyrion Hand, he’d even written some articles, one of which had sold, but Tywin had stopped from being published. He’d claimed that it would be inappropriate for the queen’s consort to comment on Westerosi politics.

Jon had wanted to clap back that all consorts had been allowed public opinions on politics before, they just had to always remain on the same page as their royal partner. He wished the former Hand would just leave, return to the Westerlands, but as the main lord there, he was allowed a position on the council to represent his kingdom. All seven kingdoms were allowed this privilege. Jon wished he could say that it was nice to have someone from home around, but he couldn’t stand the representative his father sent -- Roose Bolton.

Roose had a bastard son Ramsay, who kept trying to befriend Jon. At first, Jon had been polite to the man, as he was a northerner who was his age. They even had quite a bit in common, birth circumstance-wise, but Jon got fed up with the constant questions about how he’d tricked and deceived the princess to gain power for himself. He kept telling Ramsay he hadn’t tricked or deceived her (which wasn’t entirely true, but Jon wasn’t about to tell Ramsay the real story on that), they had just fell in love (which was true). Ramsay refused to believe it, he kept pressing and finally Jon got fed up.

Ramsay was creepy anyway.

Plus, Jon had no real power. He barely had any purpose here, aside from being with Daenerys. He was permitted to write, but all he could sell were stories about the queen. And even if he’d wanted to sell stories about Daenerys, Tywin Lannister had forced him to sign a non-disclosure agreement almost as soon as he stepped foot in King’s Landing the first time.

Tywin Lannister hated Jon. His hatred stemmed from the fact that he considered it a failing of Tyrion’s that Jon hadn’t been left behind in Braavos, as a happy memory for the princess and nothing more. He was also frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t force Daenerys to dump Jon for a more politically advantageous marriage, but since he couldn’t take it out on his sovereign, he directed his frustration at the no-name northern bastard mucking up his grand plans.

It didn’t take long for Jon to understand why Tyrion drank so much. He could only imagine the hells it would be to have the man as a father.

The combination of the many awful people in the Red Keep as well as the hounding press, made Jon keep to himself mostly. He spent a lot of time cooped up in his room, which made him feel like a prisoner even though he wasn’t one.

There were bright spots though in Daenerys’ closest friends, who Jon had grown close to as well. He’d already known and liked Tyrion and they quickly became each other’s favorite drinking buddies. Most of Daenerys household weren’t drinkers, as they were on-duty guards, and Missandei was such a lightweight that one glass would leave her giggling.

Missandei, Jon had learned, was Daenerys’ best friend and one of the smartest  and strongest people Jon had ever met. She had been sold into sex slavery as a child, where she’d been passed around and raped. She had tried to make the best of her horrible situation, learning every language she could. When she’d finally been freed by a bust from the cops, she had wound up at one of the women's shelters Daenerys had founded and supported. The two women had met during a royal visit, struck up a fast rapport and Daenerys had offered Missandei a job as a translator on the spot. They’d been inseparable ever since. It was a story that Jon would have wanted to publish if he’d still been with the Night’s Watch.

Jon and Jorah’s relationship was still fairly cool though they’d come to an understanding as they both only wanted what was best for Daenerys. Sometimes, they even chatted about home in a way none of the southerners who surrounded them could understand. Jon quite liked Daenerys’ other guards, Barristan and Grey Worm. Everyone knew and respected the legendary war hero, Barristan the Bold, now High Commander of the Kings...Queensguard; Jon was no exception. Grey Worm was a bit harder for Jon to connect with as the man was so stoic, though he’d learned that the commander’s backstory was nearly as tragic as Missandei’s.

Daenerys had also pointed out the crush that Jon could not unsee now that Grey Worm had on Missandei. Dany was convinced that Missandei returned his feelings and was just waiting for the shy commander to make his move. Jon was inclined to agree, and sometimes he and Daenerys amused themselves by talking about their friend’s romantic entanglement.

It was these moments of happiness that made these moments of tedium worth it for Jon. No matter how bored he got, no matter how useless he felt, Daenerys would always be worth it.

He heard a door slam, bringing him out of his thoughts. He heard Daenerys and Tyrion’s yelling before he saw either of them. “I can’t make people like me, Tyrion!”

“People do like you, Daenerys, when they know you. The problem is your father and mine kept you too sheltered after Viserys died, and the people don’t know you anymore except through headlines. And the one time you did go out, you came back with him.”

“Him can hear you,” Jon grumbled.

“So what do you want me to do? Talk show rounds like some actress promoting her next crappy movie?”

“Of course not, you’re royalty. We can do better than that.”

Jon walked in at that moment, ending the argument though the tension was still in the air. Dany put on a false smile for him, she walked up to hug him. She stayed tense and briefly glancing back to Tyrion, she announced, “I need a shower.” She escaped to the bathroom, leaving Jon and Tyrion alone.

Jon wanted to ask what exactly Tyrion’s plan was or point out that he didn’t like how his first act as Daenerys’ Hand seemed to be getting rid of her bastard boyfriend. Instead he decided to try a different approach to get the information he wanted. He asked, “Is there anything I can do to help her? I could use something to do, I’m going nuts locked up like this.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” Tyrion pointed out. “You’re free to walk the palace grounds or go out into King’s Landing, preferably with a guard.”

Jon pushed forward, “I feel like a kept man, like I just sit around her until she needs me and that’s the entirety of my purpose.”

“That’s going to get worse before it gets better. She’s the royal, the important one. If you stay with her, well, she will have duty and an important job, and you get to have a hobby. Your only real function will be to breed with her at some point.”

Jon’s head fell back. He had always planned for more than that in his life. He needed more. He loved Daenerys, and wanted to spend his life with her, but he wasn’t quite sure how to be consort to a queen.

Did anyone? Jon wondered if there were any books he could read for insight. He didn’t mind giving up his life for her, not really, but he still needed purpose. Something more than a hobby to occupy his time.

He guessed this was the worst kind of first-world problem; he had too much free time. And since money wasn’t really a worry anymore, he wasn’t forced to spend it doing a job he needed more than wanted.

He remembered his old dream, of traveling the world. It would be easy enough to do now. Seven hells, it would make sense for a new queen to tour her kingdoms. Jon had only ever been to the North (and now the Crownlands.) It was a smart plan, which meant that Tyrion had certainly already thought of it. Jon opened his mouth to ask, but Tyrion beat him to it, “Just how serious are you about our queen? Where do you see your future with her going?”

Jon glanced back at the bathroom door. He knew Daenerys liked to take long hot showers, the water was usually too hot for Jon’s taste. But he still leaned down and whispered to the first person he would tell in Daenerys’ retinue his plans, “I’m buying a ring. It’s being designed right now.”

Tyrion seemed surprised as well as something else, but Jon wasn’t quite sure what to name the second emotion, possibly anger, possibly disappointment. “I see. Who’s designing it?”

“Gendry Waters.” Tyrion clearly didn’t recognize the name, so Jon clarified. “Tobho Mott’s apprentice.”

“Mott is good. Daenerys has some of his pieces, which I believe she quite likes. I’m surprised you knew that.”

“My sister recommended him,” Jon confessed.

Tyrion smiled, “And how is Sansa?”

“Arya, actually.”

Tyrion’s eyebrow arched, but he didn’t comment further. This time, Jon beat Tyrion to the punch. “You’re planning to have her tour the Seven Kingdoms, aren’t you? Let the people see their queen before Baratheon’s movement to abolish the monarchy picks up too much steam.”

Tyrion sighed. “Yes. My brother-in-law has figured out he’s not going to get the support he needs before her coronation, but he might be able to get her removed her first year of rule. Or perhaps before a royal wedding.” Tyrion looked at Jon meaningful, which made Jon uncomfortable. “But if the people see her, put a face to her name, it should help her get support. I was just debating on whether or not you should be joining us.”

“She won’t leave me behind,” Jon replied confidently.

“No, unless you talk her into it.”

Jon saw the Lannister’s plan now. “If I’m to be her king, it makes sense for me to join her. But if I'm just a boyfriend, it only confuses the message.”

“Exactly.”

Before either man could say more, the bathroom door opened and Daenerys walked out in a full robe. She was covered head to toe, but Jon could still feel his blood heat at the thought of what lay beneath all that terrycloth. “What are you two planning out here?”

Tyrion told her. He proposed a royal tour of all Seven Kingdoms following the coronation. “I want people to put a face to you. You’re not just some distant queen holed up in her castle. You’re their queen.”  

Daenerys took it in, nodding. She looked to Jon. “What do you think?”

Jon answered, “I think it’s the smart move. You should do it, and meet as many of your subjects as you can.” His thumb wiped away a drop of water that had escaped the towel wrapped around her silver hair. “After meeting you, who wouldn’t love you?”

She smiled warmly at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Tyrion grow uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. “Plenty of people know me and don’t love me.”

“Plenty of cunts,” He softened his curse by leaning down and kissing his queen. It seemed to please her.

After one more starry-eyed look at Jon, she turned to Tyrion. “Make the arrangements. It would make the most sense to start in the Crownlands.” She looked up at Jon. “And end in Winterfell.”

Tyrion nodded and moved to leave, but he stopped when Jon made no such motion. Tyrion cleared his throat. “Lord Stark, the queen needs privacy.”

Reluctantly, Jon left Daenerys to change. He wished they were married already. Then the protocols that surrounded them would be lifted, as no one would care if a husband looked upon his naked wife, who happened to be queen.

Or did more than look.


	2. The Crownlands

Daenerys could feel her heart beating in her throat rather than her chest. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself, but her nerves were too active. She had been preparing for this for the past month, or her entire life, depending how one chose to look at things. It was going to be a simple, short ceremony.

Well, as simple and short as a coronation ceremony could be.

She took another breath, her eyes searching the room for a friendly face. They settled on Jon, who’d she had insisted be seated in the family box, right up front. She had fought long and hard with the Small Council on that one. 

The calm she felt settle in her chest at his warm smile made her realize she would have fought longer and harder if needed to keep him right where he was. She thought of their month of practicing in her room with the crown and repeating the vows she would take today. He had been patient and encouraging, keeping her spirits up on those long days of fighting for how she wanted her reign to begin.

He had been perfect. 

Daenerys took one more breath as she bowed for the final time in her life to allow the Septon to place the crown on her head. She felt the solid weight settle, feeling like she’d just gained a burden she would never be rid of again. She rose carefully, keeping the crown balanced as the Septon declared her queen officially. 

Queen Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, turned to face the now kneeling crowd. There was no noise, not yet. No the celebration would come later. 

She thought it would feel regal, powerful, but she just felt lonely. Conscious of the cameras, Daenerys kept such feelings from her face, putting on the royal mask she’d been perfecting since childhood. 

She wondered if her father had felt this way when they put the crown on his head. She had a lot of questions for him now. They had never been close in life, too alike in some ways, too different in others, but now that he was gone, she missed him badly. Just one more day with him would mean so much to her now.

It began as a trickle, but the roar of the crowd was deafening now. Daenerys remained standing, allowing her people to see her. 

She wondered how long she would have to stand. Next would be the ceremony where the lords and ladies of the land all pledged their allegiance to her. It was mostly a leftover from feudal times when she needed their armies. 

Daenerys vaguely wondered what Jon would do during that part. He had no official role, so he wasn’t invited to attend. She worried about her love sometimes. It had all been about her for the past month and there was no sign of that changing anytime soon with the royal tour they were set to embark on. She hoped he wasn’t feeling neglected. 

But even if he was, what could she do about it? She wanted to spend time with him, wanted to talk to him about the future and his goals and dreams, but she didn’t have time now. Her days were more scheduled than they’d ever been and her days had always been full since she met him. She worried that he might get sick of it, always coming in second, but she worried even more that he might think that was all he deserved.

She glanced over at Jon again. He was clapping and still smiling tightly at her. She wanted to rush over and kiss him, but decorum wouldn’t allow it.

Instead the Queen of Westeros made her way across the courtyard to the next ceremony.

 

* * *

 

Jon didn’t care for yoga. It was part of Daenerys’ workout routine, but he preferred free weights combined with simple classic moves like squats, push ups and the like. (The one good thing about his recent bout of free time was that he hadn’t missed a workout in the last year. His abs were something out of a photoshopped magazine.) Yet, he was here, listening to the instructor and copying the moves as best he could because Daenerys needed the stress reliever, and Jon would not pass up an opportunity to spend a full, uninterrupted hour with Dany.

Even if he didn’t care for the activity they were doing.

Daenerys seemed better, more relaxed than she’d been in days. Jon’s eyes kept drifting to her, which he guessed probably defeated the whole purpose of the relaxation and meditation sides of this practice, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to get back to his weight machine and Daenerys to destress.

“Breathe in, one, two, three, and breathe out, one, two, three,” the instructor said. 

Daenerys’ eyes were closed, but Jon noticed Tyrion standing outside the room, trying to get his queen’s attention. Jon stood. He hoped it wasn’t an emergency, as Dany needed this time to herself. She may be willing to run herself ragged, but Jon was not willing to just stand by and watch it happen.

One eye opened as he moved off the mat, grabbing his water bottle before leaving. She asked, “Is everything okay?” 

He gently rubbed her butt. “Everything’s fine. I just remembered that Arya was supposed to call. And you know, if I leave it for the next 20 minutes, I’ll have at least 15 voicemails and over 20 texts.”

Daenerys smiled, knowing his sister. Jon wanted to bend down and kiss her, but her eyes closed again. Then the instructor, with a hint of annoyance in her usually calm tone said, “And now from down dog to plank then chaturanga.” Daenerys shifted and Jon walked out.

Jon opened and closed the door behind him quietly so as not to disturb. Tyrion scowled at him, “I wasn’t actually wanting to speak with you, Lord Snow.” 

Tyrion did that, Jon had noticed. Called him Snow whenever Jon had upset him and Stark when he did something the smaller man approved of. Jon crossed his arms, stepping in front of the door. “She needs a break, Tyrion. Give the woman the next 20 minutes.”

Tyrion’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t attempt to get past Jon. “Sometimes I don’t think you understand what happens here at all. Who she is. You treat her like she’s just an ordinary woman.”

“She is just an ordinary woman,” Jon replied.

“Oh? Then why did we put a crown on her head a few days ago?”

Jon sighed. He hated arguing with Tyrion. He never won. He’d only ever seen Dany and Tywin Lannister accomplish the impossible feat. Jon decided not to rise to the bait. “When do we leave on the royal tour?”

“In about a week though technically we’re starting tomorrow with a tour of this kingdom, so you should all still be able to sleep in your own beds at night.”

Jon wasn’t sure if he considered his bed in the Red Keep his own bed. Winterfell had always been home to him. Though he was planning to marry Daenerys, and it wasn’t like she could just move Westeros’ capital city. She might have the power, but it wouldn’t sit well with the people, and politically it would be a disaster for her to accommodate her bastard consort in such a way.

It would be better when his bed was her bed, he reassured himself. Daenerys was the closest thing to a true home he’d ever found. Even more so than Winterfell. He was convinced that as long as he had her, the rest of it would fall into place.

“Who’s covering the tour?” Jon asked, hoping it would be the Night’s Watch. He got to see his old friends from time to time, having visiting them before going back to Winterfell in his most recent trip, but he still missed seeing them daily.

“The City Watch,” Tyrion answered. Jon knew Tyrion’s friend Bronn worked at that publication. He wondered if Tyrion had picked it just so his drinking buddy could tag along. 

He didn’t ask though. Sometimes he barely felt like a journalist anymore, avoiding questions rather than looking for answers. Sometimes he feared he was becoming a politician. 

Then again, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. He was planning to wind up a king consort after all. 

“What did you need to talk with her about?”

Tyrion sighed, “Robert Baratheon let last year’s expense reports and this year’s budget slip to the media. Apparently our new queen spends too much on clothing and jewelry. Of course, if she didn’t spend that money, he’d be criticizing her for not appropriately representing our country, so there’s no winning with him.” Tyrion rubbed his temple. “I don’t think anyone hates that man more than me. Except maybe my sister.”

“Your sister who’s married to him?”

“She’s the only one I got.”

“If she hates him, why doesn’t she just divorce him?”

“For the children, supposedly. Though the nannies raise them, so I don’t know what it would change other than the kids not seeing their parents despise each other as often.” 

Jon shook his head. He was amazed by how much insider information he was getting now that he was unable to use any of it. Jon had just fallen into journalism as a career; his real passion had always been photography, but after taking a break from it, he was rediscovering his love for reporting. Uncovering the truth, righting the wrongs of the world, it all appealed to him again. 

He just hadn’t figured out how to incorporate his old life into his new one.  

Tyrion looked at Jon, a calculating look on his face. “You were in the press. What do you think we should do?”

Jon shifted, not quite comfortable giving advice about manipulating the press. But he said, “Point out what else is budgeted, like what she gives to the needy, which I assume is higher than what she spends on her clothes and jewelry.”

“At least double.”

“Use that. Plus, she donates dresses and jewels for charity auctions all the time. And she buys quality, expensive clothes so they don’t need to be replaced as much.”

Tyrion nodded. He looked at Jon with a sort of admiration in his eyes. “You may know something after all.”

Jon snorted, “Like you didn’t already think of all that.”

“Of course I did, along with half a dozen other plans. But like I said, you’re the press, if you agree with it, it might work.”

Jon shook his head and excused himself while Tyrion waited for his queen. Talking about jewelry reminded Jon that he only had a week to pick up the ring from Gendry. He wasn’t sure when he would be able to sneak away, but first he would have to make sure the ring was done.

When he’d walked far enough away, and checked that he was alone, he dialed the metalworker’s number. Gendry had given Jon his private line to give them a bit of privacy. They had mostly been exchanging emails and text messages, but Jon found he liked the young man. Gendry was clearly excited about this project and loved his work. And Jon was finding it nice to speak with someone normal for once. He was constantly surrounded by political creatures, so a simple metalworker was a breath of fresh air to Jon.

Gendry answered after the second ring. “What’s up Jon?”

Jon looked around once more. He had never gotten completely comfortable within the walls of the Red Keep. Too many listening ears for his taste. “Is it ready?”

There was noise on the other line. If Jon had to guess, Gendry was moving to get to a bit more privacy. When he talked there was little to no background noise. “Yeah, at least I think so. I’ve got to put the rubies in and you need to sign off on it, but it’s pretty much good. It’s quite pretty if I say so myself.”

Jon grinned a bit. Gendry had had hundreds of ideas for the ring. Jon’s role had mostly been nixing the worst ideas. “When can I pick it up?” 

The line was silent for a moment until Gendry replied, “Tomorrow or anytime, really. You’re probably on that royal tour thing, when’s that start?”

“Officially tomorrow, but the first kingdom is the Crownlands, so we don’t leave for another week. So should I just walk in the shop?” Jon looked around again, feeling as though he had eyes on him.

It was a common enough feeling in the Red Keep that Jon wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just making him paranoid. 

“No,” Gendry said. “Shop’s too busy if you want to keep it a secret. I’ll text you my address and you can pick it up there. I would think there would fewer questions about you visiting the crapper part of town than a jewelry store.”

Jon nodded and hung up, nervous at the prospect of how real this was all getting. He was going to propose marriage to the Queen of Westeros.

He was out of his damn mind.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys had always loved art. In another time and place she may have enjoyed sitting for the painter, but right now, all she could think of was others more important things she could be doing. The crown was as heavy as ever atop her head and it was hard to stand so still with her queenly mask firmly in place.

But Tywin and Tyrion had both insisted that the portrait needed to be done sooner rather than later. The two men so rarely agreed on anything, Daenerys felt compelled to do anything they did agree on. The painter had said he just needed a few sittings and then he would have enough to finish the portrait on his own.

At least Jon and her cats were allowed in the room with her. Though because she had to stay still, she wasn’t really allowed to talk much with Jon. He lounged on a couch off to the side, one leg thrown over an armrest, reading a book. He had offered to read it aloud to her, but she had refused, insisting that she was not a child.

It was a decision she was regretting.

“What’s happening in the book now?”

Jon didn’t even look up. Rhaegal was in his lap, and he was absent-mindedly petting her cat as he read. Ghost, who had come down from Winterfell, was at Jon’s feet. “I would be happy to read it to you, if you would just admit that you were wrong. I’ll be your own personal audio book.”

Daenerys would not give in so easily. Drogon walked into the painting, brushing his head against her leg for attention. The painter had asked if she wanted her pets in her portrait, but she had said no, as she figured none would sit still enough. 

Though Drogon kept walking into it anyway, so Daenerys wondered if her black beast would be in her painting as well. 

She glanced over at Jon quickly. She warmed at the sight of her cat in Jon’s lap. Her children hadn’t taken to Jon as quickly as Ghost had to her. Probably because he’d brought Ghost with him and had smelt of dog. 

Ghost and Daenerys’ cats hated each other at the start. They at least tolerated each other now, if not quite got along. Jon had been annoyed at Ghost for his fear of Drogon, as Ghost had acted like a puppy in the presence of some huge monster with Drogon, when in fact, the dog had at least 70 pounds on the cat. It had amused Daenerys to watch. Her “black dread” made most people nervous, with his dark fur and red eyes. Even Jon had been nervous around him at first as the cat had hissed whenever Jon got too close to him. Jon had thought it meant the cat hated him, but Daenerys reassured him that he did that with everyone who wasn’t her.

Drogon liked him now though. He had never let anyone but Daenerys pet him, but  not long after Aemon had died Drogon had let Jon pet him. It had been the first thing to make Dany smile after she’d lost her beloved uncle.

It had also made her want him desperately, which was almost as cherished a memory.

She glanced over again, seeing the title of the book Jon was reading. “Isn’t that the new book in that dragon series you like so much?”

“Yep.”

Daenerys tried not to look affected. She had insisted it was dumb, but she had read all five books and despite herself had gotten quite invested in the characters. She’d even cried at several deaths. “I didn’t know the new one had come out.”

“Last week.” Jon flipped a page. “You’ve been too busy with the queen thing to remember.”

Daenerys recalled what had happened in the last book. One of her favorites had been left for dead and her eyes widened at the idea of knowing his fate. Her head jerked to look at Jon. “Wait. So you if the commander lived or died?”

“Yep.”

The painter spoke up, “Your grace, your pose.”

Daenerys ignored him. “Tell me then. Is he alive?”

Jon looked up at her question. Rhaegal stood, hopping off Jon’s lap. Ghost’s head perked up, but he ignored the cat. Jon answered, “I’m not going to tell you. If I did you would accuse me of spoiling it for you.”

“You didn’t tell me what book you were reading.” If she had known it what it was, she might had been more tempted to hear him read it to her.

“You didn’t ask.” 

“You could have told me anyway. You’re the one that got me reading it in the first place.” 

“If you want me to read this to you, just admit you were wrong.”

“I hate you.” Daenerys resumed her pose for the painter.

“No, you don’t,” Jon said, eyes travelling back to his book. “If you really hated me, you would order me out of the room. And loyal Westeros citizen I am, I would obey my queen’s command.”

Daenerys wanted to pout, but she kept her figure royal and her face strong. She had a duty. She would pose for this painting, just like she would begin her royal tour tomorrow with a trip to local lords estates tomorrow, which would involve several parties in her honor. Jon hadn’t been invited to them all, which had infuriated her, but Tyrion had convinced her that she could not start off her reign by pissing off all the wealthy families. Jon would be free to join them the next day, when she toured the poorer sections of King’s Landing. Still it infuriated her that Jon not get the respect he was due. All because he was born on the wrong side of the bedsheets. 

Almost as much as the man himself was infuriating her right now. 

The curiosity nagged at her. She could see Jon reading out of the corner of her eye, finding out more. Learning secrets he would know as she wouldn’t have time to read anytime soon. So when would she learn if the queen ever tamed her dragon? Or if the commander lived? Or any of the other plotlines?

She swallowed and without changing her expression for the portrait, she said tightly, “I’m sorry.”

Jon said nothing in response, but she could hear him flipping a group of pages. Then he began to read to her.

Daenerys tried to suppress the smile, but it spread wide much to her painter’s displeasure.

 

* * *

 

Jon had been glad to get out of visiting the rich families of King’s Landing, even if he knew Daenerys didn’t like that he hadn’t been invited even as a courtesy. At first everyone had been eager to receive him as they all scrambled for an easy in to the princess. But after two years of making it clear that Jon was to be no one’s puppet, he had worn out his welcome with the “good and noble” families of King’s Landing and none bothered to hide their dislike of him now. After all, how could the princess waste her marriage prospects on some no-named northern bastard instead of their sons? Since he had no official role with the royal company, he needn’t be included in their invite. 

He was happy to get away. Not just because he hated such gatherings, but also because it gave him a chance to sneak away to Gendry’s place.

Gendry wasn’t lying about living in a poor part of town. Jon was nearly shocked that Robert Baratheon didn’t provide better for his bastard for all of his talk of loving all of his children, but it didn’t truly surprise him that his father’s best friend was a massive hypocrite. 

Sometimes he wished the world would surprise him a bit more. He rung the bell. No answer. He rang again.

Just when he began to worry about getting the cops called on his lurking, Gendry came up the walkway behind him. “Sorry,” the bigger man apologized. “Sorry, I got held up at work.”

“No problem,” Jon stood aside to let Gendry open his front door. He did, unlocking the common door and then leading Jon to a room at the end of the hall. He opened his front door and Jon walked into Gendry’s apartment.

He was surprised by how neat the man was. The apartment was clean and the furniture despite being worn and obviously second-hand, was well-cared for. Jon had been expecting a slob, as this was a friend of Arya’s, whose definition of a clean room was one that had a path carved out to at least walk the entire space.

Gendry threw down his keys on the end table at the entrance, moving into the back rooms, leaving Jon standing in the entryway awkwardly. Gendry called out, “Did you want a beer? I’ve got the rest of the day off, was gonna watch the Stags play at 2.” 

Jon almost said no, but then he thought for another moment. Why not? He had nowhere to be and it might be nice to have a mate in King’s Landing. “Sure,” Jon called out. He looked around the apartment more, but stayed where he was standing, trying not to intrude. The walls were bare aside from an old Stag pendant tacked over the respectably sized television. “How’d you become a Stags fan? You’ve lived in King’s Landing your entire life.”

From Jon’s limited experience everyone from King’s Landing was a Dragons supporter. Though with that being the royal family’s team, it wouldn’t surprise Jon to learn that most of the support was just a bid to get in good with Dany rather than actual sincerity. He hated this town most of the time.

Gendry, still in the back somewhere doing something, yelled back, “My dad brought me to a game once. He’s a Stags fan and at the time, I wanted to be just like him.” There was a pregnant silence. Then Gendry came back into view, dressed in more casual clothes and carrying a small box. “I stayed a Stags fan because it’s more fun not to root for the same team as everyone else.” He grinned.

Jon gave a small smile in return. He understood why Arya had become friends with this man. He was easy to like. Gendry handed Jon the box and then walked to the kitchen, “Is Dornish Summer Shandy okay? I had some Northern Ale last week, but it’s gone now.”

“It’s fine,” Jon replied. He stared at the small box in his hands. How could anything this small be so important to his future? He saw that his hands, which were almost always steady, had a bit of a shake to them. He wanted to hide the box in his pocket to deal with later and just tell Gendry it was fine. He guessed it would be. 

Gendry came back, two beers in hand and looked amused at Jon’s lack of action and nerves. He set the beers down and took the box back. “Happens to almost every guy,” he said. “It becomes real once you’ve got the ring. My boss calls it cold hands. Like cold feet, but you’re nervous about proposing and her answer, instead of your vows.”

Jon nodded and looked out the dingy window that looked onto a dirty brick wall. Not much of a view in this place. Jon had been spoiled by too many good views. No matter how shitty his life, even at the Wall, he’d always had a pretty landscape to look at. Gendry opened the box and handed it to Jon. 

Jon knew in theory what the ring would look like. They had been exchanging emails the entire month about the design, but his breath still caught at the sight of it. The ring had a large blue diamond surrounded by two rubies. The setting was platinum, but hidden on the back of ring was a dragon etched in with black, which Jon saw when he picked it up to look at it. He hoped Daenerys would like it.

He replaced the ring and looked up to see Gendry looking at him anxious and eager, “Do you like it?”

“Aye,” Jon put the ring in his pocket, picking up the beer. Gendry grinned again, he held up his own bottle for a toast and Jon tapped his own against the metalworker’s. “Good work,” he said as an abbreviated toast.

“Let’s hope she says yes,” Gendry said in response.

Jon drank nearly half his beer in response. His reaction made Gendry chuckle. “Well, feel free to come back anytime, you know, anniversary gifts, birthday presents, whatever.”

Jon smiled, “Hopefully, I will.” He doubted he’d get the free discount as an actual royal though.

Gendry grinned. “I’m rooting for you, man. Not just because it would be good for business. It’s nice to see a bastard get ahead for once. We got to stick together.”

Jon thought he finally understood what his father had seen in Robert, if his son took after him at all. “How about that game?”

They watched the Stags play the Flowers (who named their team that, but that was the Reach for you.) The Flowers had one star player, who also happened to be a noble -- Loras Tyrell. But unfortunately he couldn’t carry the entire team. The Stags won, as Jon and Gendry drank the latter’s supply of beer. The spent most of their time talking about the game and the season in general. Gendry wasn’t surprised that Jon was a Direwolves fan like his sister.

Arya and Daenerys came up as topics for conversation as well. Both women were talked about sparingly, but Gendry knew enough about Arya to make Jon wonder. He knew about Arya’s love of lacrosse. He knew about the scholarship she got for it, but her father insist she turn down since their family could afford college and he didn’t want her taking money away from someone who needed it. Most disturbingly, he knew about the scar on Arya’s stomach when she’d gotten into a fight with another girl after a particularly intense game.

Jon tried not to let it get to him, tried not to go all over-protective big brother on the Stags fan. Arya could take care of herself. And despite Gendry’s size, he seemed as vicious as a kitten. If he should worry about anyone in that potential relationship, it should be Gendry. Arya would eat the man alive, if they were to actually date.

It did make Jon wonder about Arya’s constant desire to move to King’s Landing once she graduated college though. He had believed her when she said it was to keep him company, but now he wondered if there was another man she was planning to keep company with as well. 

When the game finished, Jon looked at the time and realized he had to get back to the Red Keep. There was no way Dany was back yet, but he didn’t want her to wonder where he’d wandered off to. He wanted to keep the proposal a surprise. He thanked Gendry and took a cab back.

He was glad he hadn’t drove, as during the ride back he began to realize he was drunker than he’d initially thought. He hoped the gaggle of paparazzi that usually camped outside of the Red Keep had been lured away by Daenerys leaving today. 

Jon was in luck, they had left to cover the queen. The car pulled in without the usual swarm of flash bulbs and yells. Jon held his head, thankful for the small mercy. 

He walked into the palace, heading directly to his chambers. He thought a bottle of water and an aspirin to head off a hangover would be in order, as he was scheduled to be Dany’s side tomorrow. A nap sounded great as well.

Unfortunately, his progress was stopped by Ramsay Bolton stepping into his path. Jon did not need this now. He actually never needed to be around Ramsay, but he certainly didn’t need it when he was drunk and more likely to say things best left unsaid.

Or throw a punch.

Ramsay smiled at him, thin lips stretching over yellowed teeth. “Hello, friend. Doing some daydrinking, are we? Not very kingly.”

Jon tried to will himself sober. “I’m not a king.”

Ramsay circled around Jon, like a shark. “Not yet, but I think you will. Rumors are more valuable than money here, and it’s been whispering about your upcoming nuptials. Just a matter of time the little birds whisper.” Jon resisted the urge to grasp the ring in his pocket, hoping his secret was safe. “A bastard on the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms. Like the old Kings in the North. Who would’ve thought it, eh?”

“Consorts don’t sit the Iron Throne,” Jon pointed out. He knew he had to be careful. He couldn’t lose his temper, it would reflect badly on Daenerys. She had enough going on right now without adding his foolishness to the pile.

“Perhaps not, but royal consorts are as powerful as they want to be. It’s a major win for the North. We’ve got to stick together, huh? You and me?”

Jon didn’t like being together with Ramsay on anything despite the truth of his words. “If I did become Daenerys’ husband, I would probably take her last name. I would no longer be a man of the North, but a Targaryen.”

“The North Remembers, Stark. You know that. Everyone does. Would you really turn your back on your home? Your family?”  

Jon looked away from Ramsay. He wished he could disappear into his room. He didn’t want to answer these uncomfortable questions. Jon thought of all the times he’d been on the other side of interviews like this, asking powerful men and women questions they clearly didn’t want to answer. He had felt no sympathy at the time, still didn’t really, but he understood them better now. “The Starks have been loyal to the Targaryens for years.”

“What if they weren’t? The North may recognize the Targaryens as our royalty, but we keep our rule separate much like Dorne. Though we’re still obligated to pay taxes.” Ramsay put on a mock look of concern. “Doesn’t make much sense does it? To pay for royals who do nothing for us.” He looked Jon up and down. “Well, some of us,” Ramsay smirked. “Some lucky northmen have royals doing...many things for them.”

Who the fuck did this guy think he was to talk about their queen like that? Jon’s fist curled tight, but he exhaled a deep breath, trying to keep his temper. He decided it was time to cut through the bullshit. “What do you want, Bolton?”

Making Ramsay legitimate had happened at the same time as Jon’s own order of legitimacy. It was an unfortunate thing to share. Jon wished he nothing in common with this man. It was hard to know they had once shared the same last name. The same hatred of their status still affecting them, as Ramsay got just as annoyed as Jon did, when reminded of his lesser status, despite what the king had ordered. 

“Just your friendship, Jon.” Jon hated the familiarity of his name falling from Ramsay’s lips. “After all your father trusts mine to watch out for his interests in King’s Landing. Our father’s are friends, should we not be?”

Gendry had said something similar to him this afternoon. Strange how differently it sounded from this man than it had from that one. “I don’t keep many friends, Bolton. I’ve been told I’m miserable company.” 

Ramsay’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a good friend to have, Stark. A pure soul like yours needs someone less noble watching his back, or did you never truly think why Ned Stark trusts Roose Bolton so much?”

Jon really hadn’t given it much thought before. He didn’t want to let Ramsay’s words affect him, but they did make him think about it. Ned Stark was no fool, he knew what kind of man his bannerman was. So why did he allow him so much power?

Ramsay smiled again, clapping Jon’s shoulder. “Think about it, Jon. Or would you really want me for an enemy?”

 

* * *

 

The day had been exhausting for Daenerys. Her cheeks ached from smiling all day. Her feet were sore from standing and walking in high heels. Her mind exhausted from remembering all of the men and women she spoke with and their families, hobbies and other appropriate topics of conversation for them all. 

And the tour had only just started. She had two months of such visits ahead of her. 

She wanted to throw herself onto her bed without bothering to remove her dress, but she knew if she did that, she wouldn’t get back up. And she wanted to see Jon before turning in. She wondered how he’d kept himself busy all day. She wished her duties didn’t keep her away from him so much. She wished they could just have a normal relationship, where she worked from 8-5 and so did he and they would arrive home and share their days and relax together. 

But that had never been them. She slipped into some expensive silk slippers and walked out of her room to head towards Jon’s. Her Queensguard followed her, which slightly annoyed her, but she couldn’t very well fault the man for doing his job. Besides, Sandor knew how to keep his mouth shut.

She thought about just walking in, but decided against it, as she had no idea what Jon was up to or how dressed he might be. Not that he had anything to surprise her with when it came to nudity, but she was well aware of how many watched her now that she sat the throne. 

Daenerys wondered how to broach that topic without coming across as pushy to him. She knocked on his door. There was no answer. Daenerys frowned. Where else could he be? She knocked again, louder this time. Still no answer. She bit her lip and then pounded on the door. 

She heard a groan within and then the door suddenly opened, revealing a sleep mused Jon. She smiled, loving how disheveled his curls looked when he woke up. It was one of her favorite thing about him. 

He seemed surprised by her presence but she wasn’t sure why. He had to have known she would visit with him tonight. Maybe he was just surprised she’d knocked first. She usually just walked into his room. She did that now. 

Jon waited a beat, looking at the big man who would stand guard signalling to everyone where the queen was right now, before closing the door behind her. “Dany…” he began to say.

But Daenerys didn’t let him get further, wrapping her arms around him and pulling his lips to hers, she kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in years rather than hours. It had felt longer than that. So many people, so many men trotted in front of her as potential husbands despite the fact she had made her choice clear years ago. No one would give up until the ring was on her finger.

She sometimes worried even that wouldn’t stop them. 

Daenerys pushed such feelings out of her mind, focusing instead on Jon’s lips. They were a bit dry, which she noticed happened as his personal hygiene routine seemed to consist only of showering and the occasional trim of his beard. She had thought he might start to primp a bit more as he became more of a public figure. But he didn’t seem to care how he looked in pictures, his sole vanity remaining his hair.

She smiled against his kiss, which made him pull back questioningly. She answered it by leading him to the bed, kissing him again. 

He let her take the lead. Daenerys climbed on top of him, her hips lightly thrusting against his. They continued to kiss, devouring each other as their fingers combed through each other’s hair. It was bliss. Everything that had been worrying Daenerys, every meeting, every worry, it all fell away in Jon’s arms and Daenerys was so grateful for this man. She needed him. More than air, more than anything, she needed him.

She resolved to show him this, pulling away to disrobe. Jon continued to follow her, getting rid of his shirt and jeans. Before either of them finished undressing, Daenerys kissed him again, unable to wait. They fell back with Jon’s pants still hanging off one leg and Daenerys bra unhooked but on. Their kissing grew frantic as Jon began positioning himself at her entrance. Daenerys tried to remember when she’d lost control, but then Jon was inside of her and everything else become insignificant to that fact.

Their desperation fell away and their eyes connected as their movements slowed to almost nothing. Daenerys pecked Jon’s lips and whispered, “I love you.”

He whispered back, “I love you too. So much.” He kissed her again and began moving. 

It was slow, sweet. Making love rather than fucking. Daenerys felt a single batch of tears gather at the corners of her eyes, but brushed them away before Jon could notice, as she knew he’d take them the wrong way. She was just overwhelmed by her emotions, her love for this man. She thought of how hard life would have been without him, how difficult being queen would have been without his presence beside her. She thanked her lucky stars she had snuck out and he had found her on those Braavos steps two years ago.

Soon Jon’s thrusts picked up speed and Daenerys repositioned herself so that he would hit her at the best angle to finish her off as well. Pleasure shutdown any other thoughts as she focused on the feel of Jon’s soft skin stretched over tight, hard muscles as her hands explored his back. She moved one hand to his arm, digging her nails in as he hit a particular delicious spot inside of her. The other hand moved to one glorious round globe of his ass, encouraging him to go faster, harder.

He obeyed his queen without question.

They finished together. Daenerys had secretly been put on birth control about a year ago, but sometimes she wondered if it would be better if she wasn’t, as her doctor warned her that it might be difficult for her to get pregnant when the time came.

But it was important to Jon not to father a child out of wedlock, so it was important to her. He stayed on top of her for a moment as he caught his breath until rolling to the side.

Daenerys curled into him and he wrapped his arms around her, as they came down from their high. Daenerys began to trace patterns on Jon’s chest with her finger, using his scars to aid her imaginary pictures.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t come with me today.” She sometimes hated the chains that came with her crown, the ones no one ever talked about. People expected a goddess instead a woman when they met her and she had to do her best not to disappoint. So people only saw the glitz and glamour of her life, not the very real toll it took on her to have every move she made analyzed and criticized. She cuddled closer to Jon. Sometimes it felt like he was the only one interested in the woman more than the queen. 

“It’s fine, Dany. I really think you got the worse end of the deal.”

“Was your day any fun?”

Jon hesitated. “Not really. Watched a game on TV.”

That explained the taste of stale beer on his mouth. “What game?”

“Stags vs. Flowers.”

“You don’t follow either of those teams.”

“No but the Stags might affect the Direwolves’ playoff chances.” Jon began to explain more than Daenerys cared to know about this year’s playoff season and her mind drifted though the timber of Jon’s voice was so pleasant and comforting to her ears.

When he trailed off, Daenerys said, “Who names their team the Flowers?”

Jon chuckled. “I always wondered the same thing. Maybe we should ask when we visit the Reach.”

Daenerys smiled, but the queen interjected, “That would be unspeakably rude.” She remembered Loras Tyrell played on the team. It had caused a bit of a scandal at the time. Half the country thinking it was unbecoming of a noble, the other thinking he was getting preferential treatment. Then people saw him play and most everyone shut up. 

Her finger stopped moving as she asked a question she wanted to ask for a while now, but worried that it might make Jon feel bad, which was the last thing she wanted. “Do you still write, Jon? Or take pictures? Or…” she trailed off, not wanting to finish her thought of “do anything.” 

Jon sighed. “Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?” Daenerys thought about rising up so she could look at his face, read him better, but she was still too boneless to move.

“I still write, it’s just when I try to sell articles now, no one wants anything by Jon Snow, intrepid reporter. They want some juicy gossip from Jon Stark, boyfriend to Daenerys Targaryen.”

Daenerys pulled away. “Do you not like that? Being known as my boyfriend?”

Jon brought her back. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m happy to be your boyfriend. I just...I miss being judged for my work rather than my reputation.”

Daenerys nodded, trying to be understanding. She wondered if he still wanted her or if he was beginning to think the sacrifices of a royal life were too much. But he could leave at any time, she would never force him. She clutched him a little tighter.

He hugged her in return, kissing her forehead. 

 

* * *

 

Jon had never realized just how sheltered his life had been at home until he began traveling more, meeting more people. The Wall had been his first lesson. He had assumed all criminals were bad people, but it turned out that life was more complicated than that. Seeing the poverty of Flea Bottom made him grateful he’d never seen such things in Winterfell. He was sure it wasn’t absent, but he’d been protected from it as a child. 

Now he was surrounded by kids who’d never had any parents or wealth or anything really. Daenerys seemed more comfortable here than she had been all day, while Jon stayed awkwardly to the side, as he had all day. He never knew how to act at these official things, letting Daenerys lead. This was all about her, after all. 

Tyrion stood next to him. “Relax Jon,” he whispered. “You’re going to look terrible in the pictures if you don’t.”

“And that’s what matters most, what I look like in pictures.”

“Yes,” Tyrion answered bluntly. “That is what matters most during photo ops like this one.” 

Jon rolled his eyes, despite Tyrion’s frown as lights flashed. Jon knew he might pay for a picture like that at an orphanage, but he hated how shallow all of this could be. Even charity and kindness was made political. Jon hated this and almost wished he had been excluded from this entire damn tour. 

But then Daenerys beamed up at him from her seat on the ground, wearing the paper crown the kids had made for her, and Jon let go of his annoyance. That’s what he was here for: her. Dany was worth all the bullshit that came with being a member of the royal entourage. 

Tyrion signaled for Jon to step aside, away from the press, so they could talk in private. Jon was reluctant to leave Dany, but she had just settled in to read the kids a story, so it seemed a good time. 

Tyrion didn’t mince words, probably because they didn’t have much time, “When are planning on proposing?”

“How is that your business?” Jon stalled. He honestly didn’t know yet. The ring was in his pocket again today, as he didn’t trust keeping it in his room. Gods knew, Varys probably paid the cleaning staff to go through Jon’s things and keep him informed. Jon figured the ring would stay on his person until he built up the courage to give it to Dany. He worried such courage would take years to manifest. 

And he had always thought of himself as brave. 

Tyrion studied him. “I’ve already explained to you how it’s my business. But it doesn’t matter, I want you to wait until the tour is over.”

Jon had been planning to but being told not to made him want to walk into the next room and ask now. He had never liked being told what to do. “Why?”

“I want the queen to establish her own power first. I don’t want to give the impression that you’ll be ruling rather than her. She must be loved for herself.”

Jon didn’t like his life being determined by politics, but he guessed he’d have to get used to it if he married Daenerys. He sighed, trusting Tyrion’s judgement on such things. “Fine.”

Tyrion nodded and they both rejoined the group. Daenerys had noticed their absence, Jon could tell from the question in her violet eyes when she spotted him. But the look was gone in an instant. She played for the cameras so much better than he did. Jon knew he would never be as good as her at such things. He tried to comfort himself with the fact that she had 23 years more experience than him. But even with his two years, there had been little improvement. 

He let himself soften and relax as he watched the woman he loved tell a story to children. It was a sight that warmed his heart to see. Daenerys was always so good with children. 

She would be a wonderful mother someday. Jon indulged himself, picturing himself as the father beside her and their future children. A boy and a girl, stubborn and proud just like their mother.

He was jolted out of his dreams by a tug on his sleeve and he looked down to see a young girl looking up at him. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Jon Stark.” 

She thought for a moment. Then she asked, “You’re the queen’s boyfriend?”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to marry her then?”

Jon was distinctly aware of the box in his pocket. “I don’t know.”

She thought for another moment. “Well, she was a princess, so does that make you a brave knight?”

Jon wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I’m not a knight.” 

“Are you a long lost prince?”

“No.”

She pouted a bit. “Well, would you save her from dragons?”

Jon knelt down to whisper, “She’s the Dragon Queen.” His eyes looked to Daenerys, whose story was finished and now she answered the questions of the children, much like him. “It’s more likely that she would save me from dragons.” 

This made the little girl giggle. “What about ice zombies? Would you save the queen from them?”

“Ice zombies?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, they are zombies from beyond the Wall who are frozen and can only be killed by fire or special swords.”

Jon had to admit this little girl had a good imagination. He glanced at Daenerys again who had stood and was now speaking with the woman in charge of the orphanage. “Yes,” he said. “I would fight ice zombies to save the queen.”

This made her grin. She looked Jon up and down. “Then you can marry her.”  

For some reason, this little girl’s approval meant a lot to Jon, more than Aerys’ ever would have.

 

* * *

 

The Crownlands weren’t technically one of the seven kingdoms, but it seemed silly not to include them as they were her home. Despite this, Daenerys felt she’d seen so little of them, most of her time spent in King’s Landing or Dragonstone. Tyrion had planned the tour to keep only the most loyal kingdoms in the Crownlands. They weren’t hard to find. He also wanted to at least start the tour on a good note.

Storm’s End was next. The gods alone knew how that would go.

Dragonstone, as essentially her family’s vacation home, held many wonderful memories for her. Though some of them had bittered with time. As the heir, Rhaegar had spent a lot of time here, and her memories playing with him soured with the pain of him being gone now. He had always been so good to her. Despite their age difference, he’d always made time for her. He listened to her childish musings and would sit on the floor and let himself be bossed around by her on the proper way to drink tea or move a doll.

Daenerys understood too well now how much Rhaegar hadn’t had the time to play with her. Though she also that his enjoyment hadn’t been a lie either. She loved Jon for many things, but one of things she loved most about him, was when he distracted her with fun made her feel carefree for moments. Those moments were so precious to her, as they kept her sane.

She wondered where he had wandered off to. He knew this island well, as they had spent time here when they’d arrived back from Essos. She had insisted it wasn’t to hide him away, but Jon was no fool and he knew her father and the rest of the kingdom would need time to adjust to their princess falling for a “lesser” man.

There was nothing lesser about Jon, and it had taken a lot of willpower to ignore the gossip about him. To pretend not to see or hear all the nasty things they said about the man she loved. She had gotten so angry, but Jon had helped her through that too, having heard such things his entire life. She wondered if he realized how strong he was.

She decided to go look for him when Tyrion walked in. Daenerys repressed a sigh. She wouldn’t be seeing Jon then. She didn’t bother greeting him, she let him enter and get to whatever he’d come in to discuss with her. 

It didn’t take him long to get to the point. “Are you planning on marrying Jon?” Tyrion asked.

“He hasn’t asked me,” Daenerys hedged.

“You’re the royal, maybe you should be asking.”

“I’m the royal, he’ll feel obligated to say yes.”

“We'll be in Dorne in a few weeks. Oberyn is single.”

“He’s been with the same woman for 15 years, just because he’s not married doesn’t mean he’s single.”

“Still, he was always an attractive prospect for your husband. Always ranked high on the marriage list.”

That damn list. “I thought the marriage list was gone.”

“It’s not gone until you’re married.”

“We live in the modern age, we’re past political and arranged marriages.”

“Not really, they are just rarer. Though the divorce rate is significantly lower, mostly because people enter in with clear heads and known expectations.”

“Someone’s still bitter over his second divorce.”

Tyrion’s first wife had been a nice woman he’d married after a two week whirlwind romance. But upon marrying, they found they had nothing in common. She wanted to talk about television that he didn’t watch and he wanted to discuss politics she didn’t care about. It had been an amiblicle split.

The second time had been different. Tyrion had thought it love, but it turned out she was more interested in his money than him. Made clear to Tyrion when he found his wife sleeping with his father, who she considered the better catch. 

The whole affair had made Tyrion bitter towards love.

Daenerys added, “Maybe the third time will be the charm.”

“Statistics show that it’s even more likely to end in divorce. The chances go up with each marriage, you know.”

“After the fourth marriage the stats even out, maybe you need to just keep going.”

Tyrion’s eyes narrowed at her. “You know, sometimes I wish Viserys was still here. He was an idiot.”

“My brother wouldn’t have lasted a year on the throne and you know it. Baratheon digs up dirt on me, imagine what he’d have to say about him.”

Tyrion snorted, “I always did like a challenge.”

Daenerys smiled. That was her hand. Funny, witty, and good company except when he was doing his job. “What should I be doing to prepare for Storm’s End?” It was the leg of the journey she was most worried about. She couldn’t afford any slip-ups there.

“Review the noble families, have your speeches memorized for the various stops on the tour, and be ready to answer any and all questions. You know he’ll plant his people among the journalists just to trip you up.”

Daenerys nodded. Then Tyrion added, “Have your boyfriend quiz you. Make sure he doesn’t just give you softballs either, make sure it’s the hard, uncomfortable questions. You can’t just stand there gaping like an idiot as you scramble for an acceptable answer. It’ll be seen as weakness and it will be exploited immediately.”

“Give me some credit, Tyrion,” Daenerys replied. “I would certainly lose my temper first.”

Tyrion was not amused by her joke.

 

* * *

 

They were at Massey’s Hook, at a party held in honor of the “Targaryens of Dragonstone.” The lords were the first to pledge their loyalty to the Targaryens when Aegon came to conquer, so early that they were a royal family or even conquerors yet, hence “Targaryens of Dragonstone.”

That intense loyalty still existed in these people, which was why Jon had only caught glimpses of Dany all night. Everyone wanted to speak with the queen and show their loyalty. Their devotion seemed different from the sycophants at King’s Landing who always wanted a piece of Daenerys; these people seemed legitimate. It made Jon happy to see people treat Daenerys the way he thought she deserved to be treated.

The music was loud enough that it was hard to talk, even think, but Jon caught a glimpse of Daenerys with Missandei beside her and queensguard trailing them. Dany looked gorgeous with her hair down and wearing a black gown with red dragons embroidered on it. He wondered what her wedding dress would look like.

Jon shook himself from such thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself. He snatched a flute of champagne from a passing server’s tray and went to look for Tyrion to congratulate him on the success of the evening.

By the time Jon found the little man, he was on glass three. Tyrion had snuck off to the library of this castle, which didn’t really surprise Jon. He was sitting at one of the tables talking loudly with Bronn, which also didn’t surprise Jon. 

He walked into the room and spoke to Bronn first, “Aren’t you supposed to be working?"

“I got pictures of the beginning of the evening and I’m currently interviews a source close to her majesty.” Bronn tipped his glass to Tyrion, who returned the mock salute. “Pod’s still in there, covering anything that might pop up. That’s why you bring underlings for stuff like this, so you can enjoy the party while they work.” Bronn drank.

Jon frowned. It sounded irresponsible to him. This man was supposed to be representing the royal press coverage, and he chose to do that by getting drunk with Tyrion. Tyrion said, “Stop frowning, Stark. Pod’s a good kid. Saved my life once.”

Bronn said, “I’m not sure that proves he’s a good kid. Saving a corrupt politician like you.”

Now Tyrion frowned, but he turned to Jon. “Have a seat, Stark.” He held up the wineskin they were drinking from. “I’ll fix you a real drink.” He watched Jon hesitate. “Unless you like champagne.”

Jon did not. Daenerys did so he did drink it from time to time, but he preferred more substantial drinks like ale or a strong wine. He sat. Tyrion left to fetch another glass, leaving Bronn and Jon alone.

Bronn did not let the opportunity pass. “So how does a bastard become a queen’s boyfriend?”

Jon had the story Tyrion had given him memorized by now. He and Daenerys had even added some details to flesh it out. “Everyone knows how. We met at a party, became friends and fell from there.”

Bronn nodded. “Yeah, but that story’s bullshit. You had no idea the princess was touring Braavos when you left the Night’s Watch. You were just upset because that kid stabbed you and wanted to “get warm,” I believe were the words you used.”

Jon tensed. How in the fuck did he know that? As if he’d asked the question outloud, Bronn answered, “I have some connections with a few unsavory characters. Very little happens at the Wall that I don’t know about.” Bronn had had one of his feet up, but he brought it down now, so he could lean in. “So how did you manage to seduce a princess in a day? Because I’ve seen those pictures from when she was allegedly sick that weren’t her and that you know nothing about. That’s definitely you and her with brown hair, and she wore a wig for the rest of the tour. Gods knows how Tyrion managed to pull that out of his ass on such short notice.”

Jon remembered that day with perfect memory, that wonderful holiday that had changed his life, but he knew he could never talk about it to a journalist. Jon looked around, uncomfortable. He had dismissed Bronn as a hack, as most of his past as a journalist had been with tabloids before his sudden appointment to the City Watch. But he had known that Bronn had a reputation of getting stories that no one else had any hint of, stories that were true even if they seemed like a smear job, stories that had to have involved unethical means of getting. Jon finished his champagne. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a shit liar, Stark.”

Tyrion returned and Jon had never been so happy to see the man. He took his cup gratefully as Tyrion poured the wine. He could see something had happened in his absence, but didn’t ask. Bronn relaxed again and Jon attempted to do the same.

Trying to get the focus away from him, Jon asked Bronn, “How  did you ever become respectable?”

Bronn answered, “Started hanging out with respectable people.”

He looked at Tyrion, who snorted. “The fact you consider me respectable shows how little you actually know about civilized society.”

Bronn shrugged. 

The men began to talk about a shared memory that amused Jon. He was happy to see Tyrion relax a bit, as he hadn’t seen the man relax since they’d met at Winterfell all those years ago. For all the good work he did for Daenerys, he deserved it.

Jon’s pocket vibrated and he set down his glass to pull out his phone. It was a text message from an unknown number.

_ Have you thought about our talk, King in the North? _

Ramsay. How in the seven hells had he got this number. Jon looked up and saw Bronn studying him carefully.

Jon felt his joy from earlier in the evening disappear as he now felt trapped with sharks circling around him, looking for a chance for a kill shot.

 

* * *

 

Despite her initial reservations on this tour, as she knew such things were always exhausting work, and this was one of the most important she would ever go on, Daenerys found herself enjoying the Crownlands. Then, she knew this would be the easiest leg, as their name indicated these lands were loyal to the crown and had supported her family for years. She knew this part had been scheduled by Tyrion first to give her confidence for the next part, not just because it was closest.

They were touring Crackclaw Point now, the last stop before heading to Storm’s End, the part of the tour Daenerys wished they could skip. But she was no coward and would not let Baratheon see just how much his disdain got to her. Their tour guide was a nice woman who was showing them artifacts from the First Men, which most of the area was descended from.

The First Men were Jon’s descendants too and he was clearly enjoying the history lesson. It made Daenerys happy to see. It was one of the things they shared, a love of history. When they had the opportunity, they often sat together on the couch, watching historical documentaries about battles and figures of the past. 

They were holding hands as the guide led them deeper into the cave. Daenerys glanced back to see Ser Jaime’s unease about the tightening space. Eventually the space forced them into single file, and Daenerys let go of Jon’s hand. Then it opened into a wide cavern with drawings that awed the entire company. Daenerys wondered to one of the more beautiful paintings while Jon stuck with the guide, asking more questions than the poor woman could answer. 

Daenerys looked around studying the paintings as well as her party, her eyes stopped on Missandei and Grey Worm, who were standing next to each other, but not talking. Their mutual crush had amused Dany at first but it was growing tiresome to watch them not confess their feelings.

Jaime, who hadn’t left her side,  leaned in to echo her thoughts, amusing his queen. Daenerys answered, “Perhaps I should order them on a date, and get it done with.”

Jaime shook his head. “Too forward, your grace. Wait until we get to Storm’s End. It will be hostile territory. Send Missandei on an errand with Grey Worm for protection.”

Daenerys was impressed. “Perhaps you should have been a politician like your father wanted, Ser Jaime.”

He shook his head. “I’m just a simple soldier. But with a family full of masters, even a simpleton like me picks up a few tricks.”

“It’ll be one thing to look forward to in going to Storm’s End, I guess.”

“I am looking forward to it actually.” Daenerys assumed it was because there would be more for Jaime to do there until he added. “I miss Cersei.”

Daenerys didn’t really understand the love this honorable man held for his twin, but she supposed some wondered about the affection she still held for Viserys. The question must have been visible on her face as Jaime sighed and said, “Don’t believe everything Tyrion tells you about her. She’s not actually the devil incarnate, possibly one of the lesser demons, but not the devil.”

The joke made Daenerys smile.


End file.
